


Tender Torture

by elytra



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bloodplay, Consensual Violence, Gore, Knifeplay, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7668934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elytra/pseuds/elytra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reiner indulges Bertolt's interest in pain.<br/>For Reibert Week 2016 day 3, Wounded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender Torture

"I don't want to hurt you," Reiner says.

"You won't," Bertolt responds, guiding Reiner's hand and the small knife within it back toward himself. "You know that. Please."

Reiner chews his lip, looking over Bertolt's shirtless body while straddling his waist. Despite his prone position, there's little vulnerability to him—instead, there's an aching resolve in his eyes that pulls at Reiner's core. It was rare for Bertolt to ask for much, and rarer still for Reiner to deny him the few things he did. He's never seen him so sure.

Maybe he should've picked up on this tendency of Bertolt's sooner. For starters, there was his aversion to Reiner's natural care, the way he seemed to prefer being pressed against a wall to the comfort of a bed. There was the way he leaned into Reiner's rougher touches and occasional bites, as though he'd be happy to be torn apart. And of course there was the thrill with which he relished hand-to-hand combat, Reiner's least favorite part of training—except for sparring matches with Bertolt. The exercise had always left both boys bloodied, sweaty, and undeniably passionate.

Still, saying that their situation didn't allow for much tender lovemaking would be a vast understatement. It was rare to find any privacy at all. They'd fucked against trees, in closets, with their knees ground into the dirt. Maybe Bertolt was just used to it, Reiner thought. Or even if he did like it rough, he'd never have guessed that meant _this._

They were heading into the tail end of training when Bertolt had his accident. Reiner still isn't quite sure what happened. Bertolt was probably the strongest in the class at using the maneuver gear, and few noticed his grace more than Reiner, which made it all the more alarming when he saw Bertolt suddenly fall to the ground during sword practice. Reiner rushed to his side to find Bertolt cursing out his equipment with a deep gash in his thigh. Instinctively, Reiner pressed his hand to the wound to slow the bleeding. To his surprise, Bertolt buckled and moaned in a way intimately familiar to him.

He tried to brush it off at first – maybe he was making it up? Surely Bertolt was just in pain – but his curiosity got the best of him. Bertolt refused an explanation at first, and if Reiner knew his childhood friend at all, that meant two things. He was definitely onto something, and he was going to weasel it out of him.

And here they were a few days later, hiding out in a storage shed with a sheet beneath them and a pocketed kitchen knife pressed to Bertolt's chest.

"Okay," Reiner says finally. "Here?"

Bertolt nods.

Reiner hesitates for another moment, gathering his resolve and making sure his hand is steady. Then, with a gentle precision, he runs the blade along the underside of Bertolt's rib cage. Bertolt closes his eyes, though he barely winces. The cut fills in red, and blood starts to trickle down the tan curves of his exposed muscles.

"Tell me if it's too much," Reiner says.

"Yeah," Bertolt replies, a small annoyance in his tone. "Keep going."

Reiner knows what Bertolt wants; he had pressed him til he snapped, laying out just what it was he'd been thinking of on many late nights. _I wanna be hurt, like really hurt, cut open,_ he'd confessed. Reiner frowned. Did he really feel that hopeless? _No, Reiner, I mean I get off on it._ Especially Reiner eviscerating him, apparently. Who was he to judge? The rest of their life had been pretty fucked. So yeah, he could try that, he supposed.

Still, he feels as if he can't be too careful, even if Bertolt doesn't share the sentiment. He makes his next move, a mirrored cut down the other side of his torso. The first cut must have started to ache by now. Bertolt moans and lies back. His breathing quickens. The blood spreads across his skin, shining in the light of their lantern.

"You look beautiful," Reiner murmurs, leaning down to press his lips to the crook of Bertolt's ribs. He's a little surprised how attractive he finds him like this. He slowly runs his tongue along the slice, earning him a shiver from his partner, before leaning up to pull him into a slick, deep kiss. They share the coppery taste of blood.

"Reiner..." Bertolt groans once they part, eyes half-lidded. "Cut deeper. I want to feel you.. inside of me."

Reiner shudders at hearing those familiar words in a new context. He cups Bertolt's jaw with his hand, and the brush of his thumb leaves a smear of red along his cheek.

"How do I say no to that, Bertl?"

Reiner kneels back and fondly runs his hand down the toned center of Bertolt's abdomen, stopping just short of his waistline. He reminds himself of the medical diagrams he'd studied in preparation. No matter what power lurks in Bertolt's body, he's structured just like any fragile human. The way to cut him open is the same.

"I'm gonna start, then," he warns, giving Bertolt a moment to steel himself.

The cold edge of the blade rests at his center for a few seconds before it thrusts into him with force. Reiner begins to pull down, the flesh of Bertolt's tender stomach parting smoothly to its sides. Hissing steam pours out as Bertolt groans through gritted teeth. His hands grasp desperately at Reiner's thighs as he tries to keep his composure.

"Bertolt. Stay with me," Reiner says. The low, familiar tone of his voice seems to ground Bertolt, who meets his soft gaze for a moment before rolling back his head.

"Reiner," he says breathlessly, his face flushed. He already looks a mess. He's broken a sweat, and his bangs are disheveled across his forehead.

“It's alright.”

Reiner watches the panic leave Bertolt's expression. Blood pulsates out from him, but he only draws his waist up, imploring Reiner to continue. Reiner works the knife down to his waist in response, leaving a long gash down his front. 

Bertolt cries out in pain. His eyes roll back and a heavy heat rises from his body. Reiner's thankful for his own inhuman qualities; his skin hardens momentarily, a partial shift that shields him from getting his limbs seared off. He worries for a moment that Bertolt might transform, but reminds himself that they’d trained for much worse. He does his best to steady him, setting the knife aside to cradle Bertolt's head in his hand.

"I'm here, Bertl. It's just me. I'm here."

The steam subsides with a low sizzle, leaving Bertolt with a smooth open wound, though a considerable amount of blood has already spilled out. He draws his breath sharply as Reiner’s free hand presses at the edge of the gash.

"Please," he manages, dizzied and yielding.

Reiner obliges him, his thick fingers working into his wound. He begins to explore Bertolt's soft, warm innards, very much reminded of the way he'd gutted deer on hunting expeditions back home. Seeing him like this is admittedly frightening, though he's sort of enjoying the rush. He focuses on Bertolt's desires, allowing him to press on. It's what he wants, Reiner reminds himself. He's right. Despite the pain, there is a woozy smile on Bertolt's face, and an unmistakable pressure growing under Reiner's lap.

Reiner kisses away a few stray tears before meeting Bertolt's mouth again, parting his lips slow and tender with his tongue. He works his hand into the intestines that have begun to slip out beneath him. Despite the strangeness of their undertaking, he relishes the unmatched intimacy, the way Bertolt melts into his touch. 

Bertolt shakes as Reiner moves his mouth down his neck, tracing kisses and small bites across the shape of his collarbones. Bertolt groans and rocks his hips against him with what little of his strength remains. Nothing about this should feel good, but it _does,_ and Reiner can't get enough of his downright sinful expression.

“You look real good like this,” Reiner purrs, groping deep inside of his body. “Something only I'll get to see. I promise you that, Bertolt. I'll keep you safe.”

“Nnn, Reiner...”

“I mean it. We'll get out of this, and we'll—”

“Reiner just—just fuck me,” Bertolt interrupts harshly.

“Sorry,” Reiner responds. “Guess having my hands in your guts ain't the time to get sentimental.”

He draws back and does his best to free Bertolt from his blood-soaked pants without moving him too much. He's hard, painfully so, and Reiner can't find it in himself to leave that part of him untouched much longer.

“I'm sorry babe, I can't fuck you like this, but I promise I'm gonna take care of you,” Reiner says, removing the rest of his own clothing.

Bertolt lifts his head, likely about to protest, but he's cut short by the sudden pressure of Reiner reassuming his position. Reiner sinks down against him. He can feel his cock against his own as he runs his hand down across Bertolt's spilt organs. Bertolt's breath hitches as Reiner's bloody thumb strokes across his sensitive head. Reiner leans into a sloppy and open-mouthed kiss as he takes both of them into his palm, the wet heat of Bertolt's innards pressing between them. The sheet is slick beneath him, soaked in Bertolt's blood and beginning to crumple against his desperate movements.

Bertolt whines helplessly as he begins to stroke him, a sound Reiner can never resist. Reiner smiles, noticing how all his usual reservations have slipped away, leaving him needy and vulnerable. This was a Bertolt only he knew, one that he would give everything for time and time again.

“God,” Bertolt says between his kisses. “Fuck.” He arches his back and digs his nails into Reiner as if he can't get close enough to him, as if he'd pull him fully into his body if he could. He drifts in and out of consciousness, feeling so dirtily warm, wet and open. 

Reiner speeds his pace, knowing his partner is about at his limit. It's not long before Bertolt breaks away to tilt his head back with a loud cry, shaking hard in Reiner's grasp. His climax is long and intense, harsh pillars of steam rising uncontrollably from his wounds. Reiner leans into the feeling, relishing his moans, and is close behind, cum spilling out across the quickly-healing curves of Bertolt's stomach. 

He collapses onto him. They're silent but for heavy breathing for a while, exhausted in the afterglow.

“Thanks,” Bertolt says eventually, as Reiner rolls to the side of him.

Reiner traces the lines of his closing cuts delicately, admiring the beauty of Bertolt's body, everything that it can do. He wants to remind Bertolt of all his strengths, of his limitless potential. He wants to tell him he could never keep him close enough. That being with him was purpose enough for him in this cruel world.

“I love you,” he says simply instead.

“Yeah,” Bertolt responds.

“Good thing too, 'cause this is gonna be a nightmare to clean up,” Reiner deflects.

Bertolt laughs, the first time Reiner's heard him do so in a while, and pulls him into a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> In all my years of fandom this is actually my first time putting a fic on the internet, and I know it's pretty niche but I'd appreciate you letting me know what you think!


End file.
